Ink Proposal
by Tarafina
Summary: Forever wasn't him... or maybe it was... With the right girl. :Jay/Emma:


**Title**: Ink Proposal**  
Category**: Degrassi: TNG  
**Rating**: T**  
Genre**: Romance/Humor**  
Pairing**: Jay/Emma  
**Prompt**: #01 - Money**  
Word Count**: 1,997  
**Summary**: Forever wasn't him... or maybe it was... With the right girl.

**_Ink Proposal  
_**1/1

He was near broke - so why the _hell _was he spending the last of his money on this? One of the reasons had to be the protesting blonde to his right. She was glaring at him, her lips pursed and her head shaking side to side, hair falling around her in thick waves. There was a fire in those brown eyes that made him smirk. There were two reasons he was getting this tattoo; one was the easiest to understand. He loved making her mad; he loved their fighting and yelling and the rough sex that they tumbled into right after all of it was done. And then the morning make-up sex, the "I'm so glad we vented," shower sex, and the "Isn't it a nice morning?" sex on the kitchen table...

The other reason was more complicated...

"This is stupid," she told him for what probably made twenty-something times.

"I dunno, I think I picked the right handwriting. I was leaning toward big bold letters, but then I figured cursive fit better, y'know?" he replied, lifting a brow.

"Jayson!" she exclaimed and he winced, because she _knew _saying his full name made him feel uncomfortable. Like she was tearing away the walls he kept up, of indifference and sarcasm, and making him face reality. "A tattoo is permanent!"

"_Nothing'_s permanent anymore, GP. A few laser treatments and it's gone."

She only looked _more _angry. "So you don't plan on _keeping _it?" She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

He sighed. Women were incredibly complicated.

The man holding the tattoo needle snorted, shaking his head. "We doin' this or not?" he asked, staring at them with an amused smile.

"No!" she told him firmly.

"Do it," Jay ordered just as stubborn. He turned his head toward her. "And no, I'm not planning on getting it removed."

Her expression softened.

"You think I'll ever have the money for that?" He laughed.

She rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot."

"Love you too." He smirked.

"How much does this cost again?" she asked, tapping her foot.

He could tell though that she'd accepted it by now; she wasn't going to continue to tell him he should stop. Since it had already started and the consistent sting was permeating along his pectoral, it was a little late to object anyway. In her mind, he was doing something out of the blue. They passed a shop, he decided he wanted a tattoo and here he was. What she didn't know was that he'd been putting a few bucks away every pay check for the last four months and he'd already decided he wanted one. To him, tattoos were important - an imprint on his skin of only things that meant something to him. Something he cared about enough to hold on to forever. But saying that was getting way too sappy for a guy like him, so he did it his way and enjoyed the way her cheeks flushed and her eyes blazed as she argued with him over his "rash" decision.

"Too much," he told her with a crooked grin.

She sighed in exasperation, her shoulders slumping as she stared at him. "Why do I put up with you?" she wondered.

"Besides the incredible sex?" He furrowed his brow in mock thought.

She scoffed. "You think you're good but..." She trailed off as she caught his gaze.

He stared at her, the same way he often did when they were all alone, with nobody to keep appearances up for. Heated and deep and wanting, looking into her, seeing the imperfections and loving those parts of her too. They came a long way from two fucked up kids in high school, screwing around at the Ravine, messing with things they weren't ready for yet. But they'd grown up, come a long way since then. He blamed Manny for that; she helped him mature in ways he never expected. She was happy now, engaged to Jimmy Brooks and on her way to stardom. While he was here, Jay Auto starting to get good business and an apartment he shared with his girlfriend of two and half years. Hell, even _he _was surprised at how long they'd been together. And four months ago it hit him like a punch in the gut; he _loved _her.

All right, so he knew that two years ago, but now it was a whole hell of a lot clearer. As in loved her enough to remember to buy her tofu dogs instead of all beef and making sure she's got her soy milk instead of his 2. Enough to ignore the beautiful women who sent him seductive smiles, hoping for an easy lay in the back seat of their cars for a tune up they didn't have to pay for. Loved her enough to try and mend bridges with Snake and go to a monthly family dinner at the Simpson house. To cut down on his smoking, because she was worried about lung cancer, and to buy the expensive "Green" products instead of going with the no-name crap. Hell, he even recycled! And it became clear that he loved her enough to consider the whole forever thing with her. Permanence had never been his thing but they had something, they worked despite their constant arguing. _Like an old bickering married couple_, Spike always said. And as long as her eyes always held that fire and her cheeks continued to flush when he pissed her off, yeah, he could do forever.

"Does it hurt?" she wondered, chewing her lip before she looked down at the ink and a little blood mixing together on his chest.

_Not much_. "What do I get out of it if I say yes?"

She smiled, shaking her head. She leaned closer, her hand reaching out and swiping his hair from his forehead. She plucked his hat from his head and put it on herself, grinning at him. "What do you _want_?"

He reached out, turned the hat so it was sideways, like he wore it, and then traced her face from her temple to the corner of her lips with his forefinger. "Whaddya think I want?"

Her mouth curved and she stood up from the stool, stepping closer to him. He felt her fingers run through his hair and his head fell back. He stared up into her brown eyes as she gazed back with a different kind of heat than the anger brought on. She leaned forward slowly, taking advantage of the fact that he couldn't jerk up and kiss her as much as he wanted to. He was forced back by the needle penetrating his skin. _As little movement as possible and no holding your breath_, the tattooist had told him. So he kept still, waiting for her lips to finally connect with his.

She was close, her nose gently nuzzling against his. He could see the spark of mischief in her eyes as she enjoyed how his breathing picked up, how he impatiently waited for her to finally kiss him. With a soft laugh she finally ended his prolonged misery and caught his mouth. He sighed, his lips parting and his tongue reaching for hers. She moaned quietly, her teeth grazing his lips as their tongues tangled back and forth. She tasted sweet and hot; familiar. He swore he'd never get sick of that; her flavor and the feel of her mouth on his. He reached up with his free arm, the one not in the way of the tattooist and buried it in her soft hair, keeping her close and tangling in the long blonde strands. He inhaled through his nose; she even smelled good. Like that fancy shampoo she bought - never tested on animals - that smelled like coconuts. But her skin smelled more like his body wash, a faint scent that made him smirk.

_"I'm gonna smell like _you_," she complained that morning as he wrapped his arms around her, covered in his Old Spice body wash. She laughed, wiggling in his arms._

_"And that's bad _how_?" he replied, backing her up beneath the spray._

They finally parted, air becoming a necessity. She stared down at him with glazed eyes and swollen lips. "Feel better?" she asked, voice breathy.

He smirked, winking at her. "I could use some more nursing later."

She laughed, rolling her eyes at him. She took his hand, sitting down on the stool next to him once more.

"How's it look?" he asked her, trying to see his chest without getting in the way.

"Like a Jay Hogart special," she muttered, shaking her head. "Explain again what brought on the sudden desire to get this tattoo?"

"What? I have a few others," he said, tipping his head indifferently.

"This is a little bigger, Jay," she reminded, looking slightly worried.

He sighed heavily. "You're gonna start with statistics, aren't you?"

She glared briefly before taking a deep breath. "It's well a known fact that-"

"Hey," he interrupted. "I want this. It's not a mistake. If _you _feel like this is mistake, tell me." He stared at her, waiting for honesty.

"I just don't want you to regret it," she said after a moment of silence, her eyes falling.

He squeezed her hand. "Do you think I will?"

She looked up. "I don't want you to."

He shook his head. "God, you're stubborn." He licked his lips. "Something like this... It's kinda like a forever commitment, you know?" He lifted his brows at her, hoping she got his drift.

She stared at him. "Jay... Are you trying to...?" She shook her head back and forth slowly, blinking rapidly.

"Maybe not _tomorrow_ but... some day." He nodded.

"So this is your promise ring?" She chuckled lightly, smiling.

He rolled his eyes. "Sure, whatever."

She sighed, still smiling. "You can't return this, you know..."

"Not planning to."

She grinned before lifting his hand and kissing the back of it.

"That's all I get?" he whined playfully.

She rolled her eyes. "I'll make it up to you later," she assured.

He smirked. _That_ sounded promising.

"All right," the tattooist announced. He reached for some swabs and wiped away the last of the excess ink and blood. "Done." He lifted a brow. "Unless you have complaints...?"

Emma stared at it, head tipped. "Could you write "Property of..." in bold letters above it?"

Jay scoffed, sitting up. "I love you, but I'm not _that _whipped." He hopped down from the chair and walked to the mirror, staring at the black cursive that would forever be imprinted on him. The skin around it was bright red and tender, but all he could do was look straight at the writing; his weird way of proposing. Her arms slid around his waist and her chin rested on his shoulder. He put his hands over hers on his abdomen. "Whaddya think, GP?"

She smiled at him through the mirror, before kissing his neck. "I love it."

He smirked.

"Something's missing though," she said, tipping her head at the picture they made in the mirror. "Oh." She laughed lightly before pulling his hat from her head and putting it on his. "There... Much better."

He laughed, squeezing her hands.

"So how much did you spend on this extravagant proposal?" she asked him, smiling lightly.

"With the bills paid, the shop and apartment rent covered, groceries bought and this tattoo... I figure we've got six bucks left over," he admitted, nodding.

She snorted, burying her face against his neck. "We could buy some scratchies and cross our figures."

"Ever the optimist," he muttered, turning around to kiss her. With her body pressed close, he felt the sting against his tender chest but refused to pull away. After all, he'd just had her name carved into his skin and she'd basically assured him that yeah, one day, they were gonna get married. So maybe Jay Hogart did do forever, as long as it was with Emma.


End file.
